Master Plan Redux
by Rhoswen19
Summary: Stiles gets thrown into the Argent basement while everybody is busy dealing with the Kanima situation elsewhere. After all is said, fought and done, Stiles body refuses to cooperate anymore but this time Derek is there for the breakdown. A lil' bit of Stiles Whump and a lil' bit of Sterek too.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: _Guess what? I __don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters but if I did I'd throw parties every weekend with their amazing and fun cast. Also, Stiles would get whump often cuz seriously, he's the only human without training that's always in the front lines and NOTHING ever happens to him... That said let's keep calm and carry on._

**Author's Note**: Hey guys, so I'm venturing outside my comfort zone here. A friend suggested I should watch Teen Wolf that I'd fall in love with Stiles cuz he's awesome and she was absolutely right! Thing is, I'm a die-hard whump fan but this time I'm dipping my toes in the Sterek fandom. So please R&R, let me know how I did. By the way, my first language isn't English so big thanks to Engel1982 for fixing my horrors. If you find any mistakes they're all mine and I apologize in advance. Happy Reading!

Master Plan Redux

_by Laz_

Chapter One

"_So what are you doing with me?"_

He didn't know how long Grandpa Argent was hitting him but it felt like an eternity before he finally stopped. The first punch stunned him more than anything. He didn't know what was happening, one second he was standing face to face with Gerard Argent and the next, he was on the floor. It was a hard sensation to describe because everything was happening so fast he had no time to feel the pain. One punch, then came the second, he closed his eyes tight against the assault. He might've pleaded at one time for Gerard to stop but he didn't know if the words actually came out. Then came the third punch, that's when he tasted blood and after that he stopped counting.

Stiles didn't really expect him to hit like that. An old man should not be capable of being so fast. The punches were so close together he didn't have time to react. He was fast _and_ strong for a 90-year-old dude. After the fourth punch the skin on his cheekbone split and he felt a tickling sensation run down the side of his neck. Somehow that triggered his reflexes and he tried to curl into a fetal position to protect his face and head from further damage but then Grandpa Argent adjusted to the situation and started kicking him. The first kick made contact with the soft part between his side and back. The impact was so hard that it racked his frame and knocked the wind out of him. The other kicks hit him somewhere around his ribs and that's when the pain showed its ugly face. He didn't know anyone could withstand so much pain. Even with the old man getting tired and he knew, because the kicks were lacking the strength he showed in the beginning, every blow hurt. He was in so much pain tears escaped his eyes or sweat, maybe it was blood running down his face. Stiles heard a rattle in the distance; a blurry figure he assumed belonged to Grandpa Argent was standing over him, he took something and the blows stopped. He silently prayed that was the end of it.

The pain; the embarrassment and his suffering were making Stiles feel like a few punches could end his life. He felt like he was gonna die inside that basement by the hands of a psychotic old man. He hated the thought of causing his father pain. Not only being a pain in the ass but also leaving him alone. The torture? He found out the hard way he could take, he was a grown boy after all. Leaving his father to suffer the loss of yet another loved one? That could tear him apart. The thought hurt more than any blow to the gut. That brought on yet another thing he wasn't ready for. He could feel the lanky fingers of a panic attack gripping his heart, ready to inject fear inside his system. He saw Grandpa Argent approaching him with an excitement shine in his eyes and he was getting too close to him for his liking. "Dude, personal space," but his comment fell flat. Both sarcasm and breathing got harder for him to do. His senses were dulling so he didn't comprehend what was coming 'til it was too late. Before the panic attack could do its job, he felt his skull bounce off the cold ground and darkness embraced him with open arms.

He woke up with the mother of all headaches, _"No school for Stiles today"_ he thought but then he felt the gravel beneath him not his soft bed and just like that everything came back to him. That's when he jolted in panic which made everything flare into misery and he couldn't stifle the groan that escaped through his hurt lips. He laid down again because sitting up wasn't worth the agony. His face felt swollen and stiff, like plastic, except that plastic didn't hurt. He felt a sting on his cheekbone when he pressed around, he did so with more force than he intended "Son of a…!" the pain traveled to his eye and ear in waves. He was scared of trying sitting up again because he might've felt something shifting inside the first time around, he wasn't a 100 percent sure… Still he needed to check his surroundings and figure out his next move. _Stop being a whining baby Stiles…_ he told himself. He looked around, his vision was blurry but he recognized the area, he was on the parking lot of the school, next to his jeep. Judging by the emptiness, the game had been over for hours. _"Great, the one game I actually get to play and I miss all the after game action." _He bitterly thought as he carefully got up and searched for his keys.

Slowly but surely he got inside the car with a groan here and a moan there. Once on the driver's seat he took a moment to collect himself. He was sore all over. He looked at the damage on the rearview mirror. His face was swollen, bruises were forming and blood was clotting. He cleaned his wounds with an old water bottle he found in the jeep and used his own jersey because the thing was already bloody. He sure as hell wasn't going to give Grandpa Argent the satisfaction of letting his best friend see him "bloodied and beaten to a pulp". The statement was still quite visible on the injured face. His phone vibrated on the passenger seat, he flipped and read "_**where are you?**_**"** it was a text from Scott. Speak of the devil… threw the phone back to where it was and he looked back at himself in the mirror. "Sorry Gerard, I refuse to be a pawn in your game." He said as anger ran through his system giving him the strength he needed to drive home and for the first time that night he wished Derek had been around to help him…

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Check chapter one for it.

**Author's Note**: I thought I'd take more time with it but I know I hate the waiting between chapters when I'm reading a fic so decided not to torture you. Happy Reading!

Chapter Two

Even after his dad left the room, his words were still swirling around Stiles mind. Stiles Stilinsky, a hero. "I'm not a hero" No, that was just his father newfound feeling of pride. It was foreign to him, poor thing, 'cause Stiles only knew how to screw up. He wanted to be Batman every now and then but that didn't make him a hero. What his dad saw as heroism, he saw it as going in a situation that is so screwed there's no way he could make it worse. Sometimes it works others it didn't. Then he thought of Lydia trying to rescue Jackson by herself, going completely unprepared to a dangerous situation.

Since it was a screwed up situation, especially for Jackson, there was no way he could make it worse. So in very Stiles fashion, he drove his beloved Jeep, with Lydia as his passenger, into the fight against the Kanima. As the fight progressed and died down all Stiles did was watch from the sidelines trying to protect Lydia. He did stay until it was all over: good or bad, no matter what.

When all is said, fought and done people started to leave.

Lydia and Jackson were the firsts to leave. Mr. Argent took Allison home and Scott tagged along, probably wanting to have a heart to heart moment of his own with Allison. Peter was trying to get to know Isaac seeing as he was the new member of their exclusive werewolf club, so they left together to the remnants' of the Hale house. Isaac didn't look happy but he followed Peter after he got the approving nod from Derek.

Grandpa Argent was gone and hopefully forever so.

Which left, Derek and Stiles the last two standing.

Stiles looked around, taking it all in; so much happened in this place. The arguments, the fighting, good and bad blood were spilled. Death and resurrection only to die and resurrect again…damn that Jackson. But now silence filled this place and it felt more unnatural than the event that took place.

When Derek laid eyes on Stiles for the first time since this whole mess of a night started, it felt like forever has gone by. Stiles looked back at him and gave him a smile that looked more like a grimace. His temple was bruised though the bleeding has stopped. His jaw was darkening with a bruise as well. Stiles had a split lip that looked very painful and there was a bead of dried blood at the corner of his mouth.

Derek stared at the side of his face, saw the swelling around his eye and the way the blood had pooled beneath the skin. He knew in a couple of hours Stiles would have an impressive black eye.

It made him forget about his own injuries, while fresh, his pain came from another source. His pain came from the kid that got beat up because he wasn't there to protect him. The same kid who kept putting his life in jeopardy for his friends. The human kid, whose injuries wouldn't heal as fast Derek's would.

It was on the tip of Stiles tongue to say _I'm fine_ but Derek, even without his werewolf powers, would know he was lying so he chose to make light of the situation instead. "You should see the other guy…" and there was a note of badly suppressed pain in his voice. "I'm okay…" he insisted.

Derek just raised an eyebrow. "I hope you're just lying to yourself and not to me."

A part of Stiles wanted him to say _"Oh Stiles."_ And run to him and embrace him kinda like his father did but not everybody showed love the same way. Derek was different. He wasn't the touchy-feely kind of guy; he was more the scratchy-bleedy type.

He still cared though; Stiles could see it in his eyes. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, Derek's soul was aching for him. His eyes softened enough to show worry, not for himself or the situation but for Stiles. And while a part of him wanted to be surrounded by Derek's strong arms that could melt away his pain with his warmth. The look in his eyes was the next best thing.

"I guess we won another battle, huh?" he stated with a heavy sigh.

"For now" Derek replied but Stiles was lost in a memory. He looked at the trailed of black blood that Gerard had left and suddenly he felt emotionally fragile. Like the fear and sadness he felt when he was in that basement made a comeback with vengeance. His heart thumped in his ears, and his skin felt tingly. His breathing accelerated. The feeling of despair taking a hold of his heart was back and his hand went straight to his chest.

One minute they're having an awkward conversation and the next Derek could hear Stiles heart racing inside his chest like it was trying to win a race. He imagined if Stiles had claws he would've ripped it out of his chest by now.

Derek closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. He was silently freaking out because he didn't know how to help him. The pain in Stiles chest was so intense it was making _his_ thoughts fuzzy. He felt like oxygen was not making its way into _his_ lungs.

Meanwhile Stiles felt like he was dying and a memory of happier times with his parents cloud his vision.

Derek was done watching helplessly. He didn't like the way Stiles breath was hitching so he stood in behind him, dragging them both to the side of the Jeep. Derek's back against the Jeep and they slide to the ground. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, tucked his knees in behind his and held him close.

He was aware of the fact that he had never been this close to Stiles and yet it felt natural to him "I've got you buddy." Like their bodies were pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly "Everything is alright now."

Stiles heard the voice but the words made no sense. He felt like he was being locked outside of his own body and had no control over it. His hands tingled and shook but he managed to grip Derek's arm. "Just listen to my voice, feel the beating of my heart."

Somewhere in the back of Stiles mind he knew he had to focus on that voice because it was Derek's voice. Right that moment, when his world was slowly fading out, that voice became his anchor. "That's it, you're doing great Stiles."

Stiles stopped gasping for air and coughed as he found out how to breathe again, but soon after he managed a couple of hard breaths he felt lightheaded like he was fading away in a fog. Then there was a falling sensation as he sank into the blissful darkness.

He wasn't scared this time because he had found comfort in the sound of two hearts beating as one before he passed out in Derek's arms.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Check chapter 1

**Author's Note**: Well, this is it guys. The end of our journey. Hope you enjoyed it, I know I did. Also, thanks for all the Follows, Favorites and Reviews! Happy Reading!

Chapter Three

He woke up on his bed with no recollection of how he got there. "How the… ow" the rest of the question was muttered as a groan but Derek understood perfectly and answered him with a hint of amusement.

"You fainted"

"I did not! At least that's not the word I would've used…wait a minute," he took a moment to consider what was happening "You know, I don't know what shocks me more the fact that you made a joke or that I don't know how we got into my room" there was the ghost of a smile on the wolf's face. "Oh my god you made a joke! Too bad you're not funny. Damn my head is killing me. So what did happen?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Jackson doing a bad impression of Jesus then…" Stiles closed his eyes trying to collect his thoughts on what happened. "I remember, seeing blood on the ground" he opened his eyes again and looked straight into Derek's face. "…and your voice, you were saying something to me."

Stiles swore he saw Derek's cheeks turn a uncharacteristically shade of pink but he turned away and in all seriousness says "You had a panic attack…"

Now it was Stiles turn to be embarrassed. "Oh lovely, bet that was fun to watch."

"It really wasn't"

"Sarcasm; look it up man."

"I umm, I brought you here" Stiles moved to his dresser and started taking off his shirt with difficulty. "Great" his muffle voice came through the fabric laced with pain.

But Derek was busy studying him. Not only could he see the palate of colors displaying on Stiles back and torso but he could feel the way every movement jarred Stiles' sore body. Derek suspected the kid had at least two cracked ribs on top of his concussion.

"Why are you looking at me like that? You pervert" he feigned disgust and then laughed and stopped himself because laughing hurt. "Got you for a minute there, huh?"

Derek is caught off guard but he recovers quickly. "I think I just found out your secret."

"What secret? What are you talking about, Wolfie?"

"You don't have to hide behind your crappy jokes when you're with me" Stiles looked almost relieve that he didn't have to. He changed into his pajamas and sat on the edge on the bed. "I know you're hurting"

"Yeah well they're just bruises and they'll heal eventually"

"You have cracked ribs Stiles."

"That why it hurts to laugh?"

"Of course, you dumbass."

"Excuse me Mr. Know-it-all, I've never had cracked ribs before."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"It's okay; you were dealing with important stuff"

"You're important too"

"Either I have a concussion or you just admitted out loud that I'm important." Stiles tried to find a comfortable spot on the bed but his sore body made it nearly impossible

"You do and I did."

"Is that why you're here? Because you didn't have to stay, you know,_could have left at any time_." Stiles gave him the option but Derek stayed rooted to his chair.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. Besides I'm your friend or at least that's what you keep telling people." Derek looked around uncomfortable.

"Oh silly wolf, you're more than my friend." Derek didn't say anything but Stiles could swear he saw a sparkle in his eyes and decided to take a chance. If anything he could always blame it on the pain medication. Except… he wasn't taking any because he never really got around to visiting the hospital. Anyways, Derek just finished saying he was important so maybe it was time to take a shot in the dark. "So I was wondering if you like me, like me because we've been playing this dance for a while and I've got two left feet so if you do…'

"Stiles" Derek said and moved closer to the bed.

"…then I sort of kinda like you too, but not in you know, that lovey-dovey, cheesy way"

"Stiles…" he tried one more time and sat next to him on the bed. Stiles was looking right at him, eyes holding his with such display of honesty. _If only he would shut up for a second_ Derek thought

"but in a more than friends sort of way and then I was thinking that maybe we could do more…"

"Stiles!" he's annoyed now because Stiles won't stop talking.

"than just run for our lives, hunt stuff and research you know…" Stiles could hear the angry growl but he could't for the life of him stop his rambling because he was really nervous now that Derek was so close to him "maybe we coul…"

Derek did the only thing he could think of to shut him up: he kissed him. Not very hard, nor soft, or passionate, or any other thing which would usually be associated with a kiss, it was just his lips against Stiles. It was tentative and nervous.

He took a second to look into his eyes and once again Stiles surprised him. His words were taunting, but his voice was gentle. "Is that all you've got?" Derek didn't take it as a challenge; he took it as permission granted. Lips touching his again, and this time, it was a very different sort of kiss. It was two years' worth of kissing, their lips coming to life under that kiss, tasting of hurt and desire.

"You need rest." To Stiles, it sounded like Derek was gonna leave him, like he was running way so before he could do so he grabbed his hand. "Stay?" who knew such raw emotion could fit in just one word. For Derek it wasn't the word, or the pleading eyes that did him in. it was that static jolt he felt whenever Stiles touched him. It made him feel more alive than the wolf inside of him.

"Someone needs to wake you up for concussion checks."

"Again with the not so funny jokes"

"Who said I was joking"

"Just get in bed. I trust you to behave and to not hog the sheets." When he still hesitated, Stiles added "Hurry up, before there's no more night left."

With a rare smile on his face, Derek obeyed.

_Finis_


End file.
